


Memories

by carmillasleatherpants (courtneyarnelle)



Series: Fill Me In [5]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: AU, Christmas Fluff, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 10:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2847314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courtneyarnelle/pseuds/carmillasleatherpants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere between your amazing snow outing and your classes ending due to winter break quickly approaching, you’d somehow forgotten that Christmas was even a thing. And now, it was two weeks away and you still needed to get your father and Carmilla gifts.</p><p>(Christmas one-shot for the Holidays. + The story behind Carmilla's scar.) Rated for language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

**Somewhere between your amazing** snow outing and studying for your finals since classes are ending due to winter break quickly approaching, you’d somehow forgotten that Christmas was even a thing. And now it was two weeks away and you still needed to get your father and Carmilla gifts.

You’re at Carmilla’s house lounging on her couch when you remember. You and Carmilla had been inseparable since you’d admitted your feelings, and you may as well be living in her house. Her mother is almost never there and Carmilla is a bit of a slob. So you always find yourself cleaning up after her like a _maid._

You don’t mind too much, even if you do complain as you clean up her messes. You’re lying in her lap and you sit up quickly with a gasp when you remember you’d yet to buy your gifts. Your outburst causes Carmilla to stiffen, then she lets out an aggravated sigh.

“I’m afraid to ask, but what?” She asks. Carmilla pushes her fringe back out of her face, which she does often but it’s ineffective as it always falls right back into place, and raises an eyebrow at you.

“It’s almost Christmas.” You say. Carmilla narrows her eyes at you and you turn towards her, resting a hand on her knee and smiling at her excitedly as you repeat, “It’s almost Christmas.”

“Yeah, so?”

“ _So?_ It’s the season of giving and good feelings, Carm. Don’t you like Christmas?” She stares at you for a moment, before she looks down, suddenly finding an interest in the rips of her black jeans.

“Not really.” She finally answers after a few minutes.

“Oh.” You visibly deflate at her answer, and lean back into the couch. You can feel Carmilla’s eyes on you, but you don’t say anything else.

“Cupcake.” You reluctantly meet her gaze, and she gives you a soft smile. “Let me explain. Okay?”

You nod, nervous about whatever she’s going to tell you. Carmilla was doing doing that thing again when she’d give you a dip into her past, and you’re not sure what she’s going to tell you.

And that makes you so nervous.

Carmilla rubs the back of her hand nervously, then her hand drifts upwards and rubs against the spot above her chest where her scar is, and you press your lips together.

“Maman, she… She never really celebrates Christmas here. She’s completely absorbed in her work. So there’s no time for festivities in the Karnstein household. She usually just hands me a wad of cash and tells me not to buy drugs, which isn’t really an issue. And…” She stops talking. You can’t help but notice her digging her fingers into that spot where her scar is on her chest.

You want to ask her about it, but you wait for her to continue. Except she doesn’t. She just chews on her bottom lip and stares off into space.

“Carm?” You whisper, her eyes regain focus and her hand drops back into her lap.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“… Shoot.” She sounds so small, so you reach for the hand that’s in her lap and hold it in both of yours. Carmilla looks up at you sullenly. It’s now or never, you have to ask.

“Um, your—your scar. How did you—”

“Someone tried to kill me.” Carmilla answers you quickly, cutting off the rest of your question and your throat feels dry.

“What?” She turns her gaze from you, before she starts.

“My family, we were Jewish so we didn’t celebrate Christmas itself in the first place, but it was still the holiday season. It was Christmas fucking Eve of all days. My father, he was the heir to some big company that owned a lot of small businesses across America. He was really just a figurehead, but he was still very wealthy.

“This guy had been stalking our family for a while. I guess he got fired and blamed us for it. I was so caught up in the lifestyle, it meant little to me. I was young and naïve. He broke into our home, and he killed both my parents. I heard their screams and I called the police. He came for me next, and the authorities made it to me just as he’d found me and made the first cut.

“He told me was going to make my death slow and painful, and that this cut was just the first of what was planned to be many. God, I was _fourteen._ ” Carmilla glared bitterly at her lap and you squeeze her hands in yours. “Maman took me in, and I was completely traumatized. So, she took me out of country to distract me. We stayed with my cousin Will and his mother. For a while, and just travelled. Maman was trying to distract me and it worked. It was a nice vacation. I received schoolwork to keep up with my classes and continue with my education. And then we ended up here.” She looks up at you for the first time since she’d started talking and you’re just staring at her completely lost for words. “Weren’t expecting such a tragic backstory, huh?”

“Carmilla, I didn’t—”

“It’s fine. We have to be open with each other if we’re going to have a healthy relationship, right?” She gives you a sad smile. You lace your fingers with hers and squeeze again in a way that you hope is reassuring.

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly.

“It’s fine. I’m… I’m over it.”

You don’t believe her, but you drop the topic.

* * *

 

 **You don’t talk to** Carmilla about the holidays again, scared to dredge up her past. You’d been right to be cautious about asking before, and you felt horrible for asking her about it. You’d still gotten her a present, you’d noticed a while ago how often Carmilla would stare at the stars. So you’d bought a star projector to recreate those stars she liked so much onto the walls of her bedroom.

You were pretty sure she’d love it, but you were nervous about giving it to her. It sat wrapped under your bed looking pretty, but it felt like a reminder of the things you’d learned about Carmilla’s past. And it had started to make a lot of sense why she never really liked to talk to anyone about herself.

You liked Carmilla as she was now. Snarky and a bit rude at times, but completely devoted to you. She could be sweet when she wanted to be, and you wouldn’t change a thing about her. But you can’t help but wonder what she would have been like if her parents hadn’t been killed.

Would the two of you have even met? Would she even like you? Would you like her?

You can’t help but imagine her still in the lap of luxury. Featured in business magazines talking about the new heir to some big company. You wonder who she would have dated. How she would have acted. Would she even have been _your_ Carmilla?

You don’t really want an answer to those question.

You curl up into her chest on the night before Christmas Eve, rather than spooning. She’s in an oversized hoodie and boxers, completely relaxed underneath you. You press your nose between her breasts and wrap your arms around her waist.

Carmilla doesn’t question your position. She just wraps her arms around your shoulders and rests her nose on the top of your head. You mumble a goodnight into her chest before you fall asleep with the sound of her steady breathing filling your ears, the thump of her heart against your head and her scent filling your nose.

* * *

 

 **You wake the next** morning with a weight hovering over your body. You rub your eyes with closed fists and slowly open them, to see Carmilla staring you dead in your face. You jump and she doesn’t even react to your momentary distress. She just sits back and watches you pull yourself together.

“Carmilla, what the hell?” She gives you a small smile before she responds.

“Merry Christmas, cupcake.” And you notice for the first time the black Santa hat she has on (of course she found a _black_ one) and a red ‘Grumpy Cat’ Christmas sweatshirt (which is wonderfully ironic).

“What are you doing?” You ask her, sitting up and rubbing the last bits of sleep from your eyes.

“It’s Christmas.” She says and you roll your eyes.

“No, it’s the 24th. It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Well, _smartass_ , I don’t want to take your father’s _only_ daughter away from him on such a special holiday. So, I’m taking you out for Christmas festivities today.”

“But, you said you didn’t really celebrate Christmas.”

“No, but _you_ do. I’m not going to let our first Christmas Eve together be shitty. So get your ass up.” You stare at her for a few seconds, waiting for her to tell you this a joke, or to wake up from this weirdly vivid dream you’ve having. But neither of those things happen.

“Don’t I get a good morning kiss to start of these ‘Christmas Festivities’?”

“No.” Carmilla replies bluntly and your mouth falls open. “You have morning breath and I just brushed my teeth.”

You’re appalled at that comment, and you reach behind you and toss a pillow at her. Carmilla deftly ducks under it and hops neatly off the bed.

“Hurry up, cupcake. We have very important plans.”

* * *

 

 **Carmilla’s “Very Important Plans”** begin with boxes of packed up Christmas decorations labeled _“X-Mas Shit.”_

She explains that when they moved in, they’d stuck the decorations in the basement and that she’d, by herself, dragged them all upstairs while you’d been asleep. You’re admittedly a little peeved she hadn’t asked you to help her, but decide to let it go due to her clearly trying to surprise you with the joy of decorating.

And it might be cheesy, but you really, _really_ loved Christmas decorating. You started opening the boxes immediately seeing what you had to work with. You can’t help but think that for people who didn’t really celebrate Christmas, the Karnstein household owned a _lot_ of decorations.

“Christ, Carmilla. Why do you even have all of this?” She shrugs when you look at her, but finally bends down to start helping you unpack things.

After unpacking two boxes and organizing different objects, a thought occurs to you, “Won’t your mother be mad about all of this?”

“No. I honestly doubt she’ll even notice, as long as _I’m_ the one to clean it up.”

You don’t ask her anymore questions, satisfied and a little saddened by that answer. You hang wreaths on all the doors as Carmilla, clearly making an effort, sits in the living room putting together an artificial Christmas tree (because “real trees are a real hassle.”)

When she finishes, you help her decorate it with various ornaments. You’d already helped your father decorate the tree at home, but decorating with Carmilla felt different. Not just because she was actually trying to help you despite her clear disinterest, but just because it was with Carmilla.

When the two of you finish, you nudge Carmilla with you shoulder.

“The tree looks good.”

“Yeah, it does. You have quite the artistic eye, cupcake.” You give her a wide smile and press into her side.

“Really?”

“Sure.” She moves behind you to wrap her arms around your waist. “I’m going to lift you up so you can put the star on top of the tree.”

“Okay, just be careful.” She snorts and you can practically feel the roll of her eyes behind you as she bends to tighten her arms around your thighs and lifts you with the smallest noise of effort.

“I’m always careful.” She grunts. You stretch and place the star as carefully as possible onto the top of the tree. Carmilla sets you back down on your feet and you step back with her to observe your work.

“It’s perfect.” You breathe and she wraps an arm around your waist.

“Yeah. It is.”

* * *

 

 **Carmilla takes you ice** skating next. You’d thought she’d be all smooth and coordinated considering this was _her_ idea. But she looks like a newborn deer attempting to walk for the first time.

You try not to laugh at her as she shuffles slowly across the ice towards you. She pitches forward and you catch her by her forearms. Carmilla grasps yours, her face flushed in embarrassment.

“This was a horrible idea.” She bites out.

“I think this was a great idea.” You tell her, skating smoothly backwards and pulling her with you. Carmilla looks at you with mild irritation at your coordination.

“You just like seeing me embarrass myself.” She slowly relaxes into your arms and you offer her a smile that she can’t help be return.

“I like being the coordinated one for once.” You say and she manages to laugh.

“I suppose it is an interesting flip, huh?” Carmilla holds onto you as you skate backwards around the rink. After a few minutes, Carmilla starts to loosen up and actually enjoy herself. You let her go and she makes a few small movements towards you.

“See, you’re getting better at this already.”

And then she promptly falls on her ass.

“Fucking—”

“Carmilla, your language! There are children around!”

* * *

 

 **“Why would I want** to build a snowman?” Carmilla asks you with complete disdain.

“Snowperson.” You correct her and she groans. “And because it’s going to be fun. You apparently haven’t seen snow until you came here so you can’t have built a snowperson. I want us to make one together.”

“How did I end up with an actual twelve year old?” Carmilla narrows her eyes at you and you pout at her.

“Don’t make me beg.” You tell her and, with a roll of her eyes, she crouches to help you start packing snow together. You can’t help but take a moment to admire how cute she looks in her beanie.

“What?” She asks, not looking up at you but apparently feeling you watching her.

“You look cute in a beanie.” You answer her honestly, and she manages to look bashful.

“And you say _I_ don’t stop flirting.” She helps you roll your growing snowball into the base of your snowperson.

“That—That wasn’t _flirting._ It was an _observation_.” You tell her defensively, and she laughs.

“Whatever you say, buttercup.” It doesn’t take the two of you that long to finish the body. Carmilla finds a couple of pebbles to use at the eyes. You give it a mouth and she uses another pebble for the nose.

“I’ll go find some sticks for the arms.”

“Fine.” She tells you, and you search the yard while she observes your ‘masterpiece.’ You return with two sticks and she’s sitting shivering in the snow.

“Are you cold?” You ask her, and Carmilla glares at you.

“No.”

“You can admit if you’re cold. We can go inside and warm up.”

“I’m f—fine.” You sigh and hum _Frosty the Snowman_ under your breath, sticking the arms into your snowperson. You take a step back and admire your work. Your snowperson was _perfect_.

Carmilla is silent behind you until she asks, “What are you humming?”

“Have you never seen Frosty the Snowman?” Her glare is enough to answer that question. “Right. Don’t celebrate Christmas. Of course.” You blush and she sighs.

“We can watch whatever cheesy, sappy Christmas movies you’d like, creampuff.”

* * *

 

 **You make her spend** the rest of the afternoon watching all of your favorite childhood Christmas movies on her laptop. You’d made gingerbread cookies that were baking in the oven while she laid across your lap watching the movies.

Carmilla had faked disinterest at first, but slowly she started to get into them. She started to ask questions about the characters. And at one point she threatened all the characters who’d laughed at Baby New Year’s ears. And the look on her face when you reminded her it was just a cartoon made you laugh.

It’s dark when you reach the end of the third movie. You lace your fingers with hers and she looks up at your squeezing your hand.

“Hey, so I got you something.” You say and she sits up.

“Oh, Laura, you really didn’t have to.”

“It’s under my bed back home, but—”

“I got something for you too. It’s—Well.” She reaches under the couch and pulls out a small box. “It was my mother’s. It’s kind of an antique and you’re not really supposed to wear it, but—”

Carmilla opens the box and shows you a beautiful necklace. It’s on a silver chain, with different colored stones embedded into it. It looks insanely expensive and you feel like you don’t deserve it.

“Oh, Carm. I can’t—”

“Please? I couldn’t think of anything else to give you, and I think I’d feel better knowing someone I love about was holding onto it, do you understand?”

“I—I do.” She places the box into your hands and you pull it into your lap. “This makes my gift seem so stupid.” Carmilla shakes her head at you.

“Not if it’s from you. What is it?”

“It was a star projector. You could—Well, you could attach it to the ceiling and—I know you like the stars a lot. So you could use it to project stars onto all your walls.” Her eyebrows rise and she actually looks completely interested.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but—”

“You just can’t let yourself feel good about yourself can you?” Carmilla cuts you off and smiles “It sounds amazing, cupcake.”

You just look at her for a moment and you’re filled with so much warmth. Then you notice her arm lifted above the both of you, and you look up and clutched in her hand is, of course, a mistletoe. You roll your eyes.

“Really?” You ask.

“I have no idea what you’re—” Then she looks up at her hand and feigns surprise. “Oh, would you look at that? A mistletoe? Well you’re going to have to kiss me now, aren’t you?”

“You’re such a cornball.” You sigh, then you throw your arms around neck and happily lean into her, pressing your lips to hers. Carmilla’s mouth opens immediately and your tongues meet as she leans into you to kiss you back.

You don’t think you could tired of the way Carmilla tastes. The taste of expensive wine that you haven’t been drinking. Of a beautiful mystery waiting for you to solve. Being with Carmilla is a constant feeling of unlocking new doors and creating new memories that you’re sure will last you your entire life.

You move to straddle her and your fingers tangle in the back of her curly hair. Carmilla’s lips move in sync with yours, and you nip at her lower lip asking her for more. The mistletoe is dropped somewhere behind the couch and her hand slides to your lower back.

“Wait.” You breathe and her hand freezes. “I don’t want to have sex right now.”

“Okay.” She replies, pressing an apologetic kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Sorry.”

“No, no. It’s not like that. I just want you to hold me right now. And I don’t want you to let go.” You pull away from her and meet her eyes. Carmilla licks her lips and then she nods.

“Whatever you wish, princess.” She teases, you decide to ignore it as usual.

“Thank you so much for this, Carm. Best day ever.” You rest your head against her chest and listen to the steady beating of her heart. She’s quiet for a moment, and when she does speak it’s almost a whisper.

“Honestly, it was for me too. I really did need something good to cover all those bad memories.”

“Well I’m glad you choose to make those memories with me.” You say and she runs her fingers up and down your back.

“Merry Christmas, Laura.”

“Merry Christmas, Carmilla.” You mumble happily.


End file.
